The Name of the Wind (The Kingkiller Chronicle, #1)

by Patrick Rothfuss

The day we fret about the future is the day we leave our childhood behind.

A poet is a musician who can’t sing. Words have to find a man’s mind before they can touch his heart, and some men’s minds are woeful small targets. Music touches their hearts directly no matter how small or stubborn the mind of the man who listens.”

If you can find someone like that, someone who you can hold and close your eyes to the world with, then you’re lucky.

Fear tends to come from ignorance. Once I knew what the problem was, it was just a problem, nothing to fear.

The boy grows upward, but the girl grows up.

There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.

We were none of us particularly drunk. But then again, none of us were particularly sober, either. Our exact positioning between those two points is a matter of pointless conjecture, and I will waste no time on it.

We know how it ends practically before it starts. That’s why stories appeal to us. They give us the clarity and simplicity our real lives lack.”

Music is a proud, temperamental mistress. Give her the time and attention she deserves, and she is yours. Slight her and there will come a day when you call and she will not answer.